Killing Time
by Clez
Summary: What started as a routine night for the Nightstalkers King and Whistler ends up gathering an 'interesting' twist.


**Author's Note:** This is my first try at a _Blade_-related ficlet, so… yes… just so you know.

* * *

"I think I preferred the vampire Pomeranian."

"_What_?"

"… Never mind."

Combat boots crashing against the asphalt, the two young hunters turned their eyes briefly skyward to the brilliant full moon, gleaming like a beacon through the now-parting clouds. Behind them, a pair of unified – and no doubt hungry – howls split the silence, and they cursed quietly.

"This is a whole new ball game," the tall male said briskly, as they skidded to a halt in the abandoned subway station. Hannibal King cast his brown eyes over his shoulder in a swift glance, before looking back to his shorter companion. "Did I mention I hate ball games?"

Abigail Whistler gazed up at him, her vibrant chestnut hair tumbling over her shoulders as she turned her head swiftly. With a shake of her head, she pulled out her bow, making it ready in a matter of seconds. Hannibal watched her for a moment, before almost slapping himself in the head with a gloved palm. Without another pause, he pulled out both electronic pistols from his thigh-holsters, and held them prepared at his sides.

"We do know what we're dealing with here, right?"

She pulled an arrow from the sturdy quiver across her lean back, eyes never leaving the loading of her bow as she said simply, "Lycanthropes."

Hannibal narrowed his eyes irritably, sighing heavily enough to heave his chest as he mumbled, "Well, shit… just perfect. Vampires, vampire _dogs_, werewolves… what next?"

"You should know better than to ask that question," she teased, raising the bow like a medieval archer, aiming it at the steps they had practically leapt down as the heavy and predatory thunder of 'paws' came closer and closer. Either they were teasing the two Nightstalkers, or they were toying with their prey… not that there was much difference.

_Or they're the slowest sons of–_

That was when a thud sounded behind Hannibal, and he whirled, letting off a shot from the left gun that only grazed across the huge monster's right side. It roared, and swung an arm like a club at him. With a hissed curse, he tried to dodge, only to have it clip him in the shoulder and send him careening into the wall off to his side. He hit the brick hard, grunted, and fell to the ground, managing to brace and catch himself enough to avoid embarrassment and injury alike.

"Son of a…" he growled, and raised both pistols as he came up on one knee, letting off two shots into the thing's abdomen which slammed it back and away from Abby, where it had been advancing behind her threateningly, as if to break her concentration on the stairwell. While she didn't thank him outright, the slight smile at the very corner of her lips showed her acknowledgement, and he nodded with a deep breath, pulling himself to his feet, and making a mental note to keep his distance from the creatures. He had already experienced 'life' as a vampire… he didn't fancy trying it as a werewolf either.

With a roar and a loud crash, the second werewolf came thundering down the stairs, maw open wide with dripping saliva and blood on its fangs. They'd come across the pair in the middle of a feed, and when the initial curiosity and shock had worn off, they'd made a point of trying to find some better ground. Who knew if they were the only werewolves in the area? They certainly had not, and so they had headed here, where there would be a better chance of keeping them contained in combat.

Not that Abby seemed to have any close or prolonged combat on her mind, as she released the bowstring from near her cheek deftly, and sent the silver-tipped arrow flying at such a speed that the wolf had very little time – if any – to realise and move. Its amber eyes widened just a fraction before the sharp point crashed through its lupine skull, and pierced its brain. The creature was thrown over backwards by the force of the impact, and lay still on the ground, dead.

Hannibal turned his eyes back to the other one, which was gathering itself once again after being shot, the silver having burned through it. He'd been hoping it might have killed it straight away, but apparently not, unfortunate as that was.

_Brain or heart job… I can do that._

He lined up two shots simultaneously, one for the chest, and one for the head, aim perfect, eyes intent on the beast's face.

Of course, what he didn't expect was for it to charge forward a little, tear one of the benches from the very ground, and hurl it at him. He gave a yell, and threw himself down and forward in a roll, feeling the seat skim over the top of him with only an inch to spare. He cast his eyes over his shoulder as it smashed against the wall from the force of the throw, and then heard the savage growl.

The two Nightstalkers raised and aimed their weapons in unison, staring the beast down. It didn't seem to know which one to go for; King or Whistler… man or woman. Hannibal's arms never wavered, not even a fraction. Abigail was sturdy on the other side, near the track, her bow ready and perfectly angled at its heart. She quirked a narrow brow, and threw her companion a suggestive smirk.

"Oh, well thank you," he quipped, before he fired two shots, watching the werewolf jerk twice. Its head rocked back, and its chest jolted from the bullet now lodged in it, and for a moment, it merely faltered… before it slumped back and landed with a heavy thud against the trackside.

After a tense pause, ears listening for anything else approaching, King and Whistler lowered their weapons. The guns' whine ceased, before the pistols were holstered once again, even as the bow was replaced conveniently on Abigail's person. The arrow was back in its container, along with the others like it.

"That was different."

"And brief," she returned with a glance in his direction. "Probably young. They seemed a bit haphazard."

"Yes, well hurling benches isn't exactly professional now, is it?" he retorted lightly, seeing her roll of the eyes. He smirked, before he turned his head back to the stairs. She looked to him.

"What is it?"

He was still for a long time, before he shook his head. "Probably nothing. For a minute I thought…"

And then a howl shattered the sky, making them both tense and even start very slightly. As one they whirled to the stairs, even as the faint padding of feet-cum-paws could be heard from a distance.

"… I thought I heard something?"

Throwing him an unreadable gaze, she removed her bow once again, mimicked by Hannibal and his guns, and together, they stood ready.

_This night just keeps getting better…_


End file.
